


the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

by starraya



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starraya/pseuds/starraya
Summary: At the moving of her pillow underneath her, Serena stirs. “Bernie?”She turns her head to face Bernie, blinks with a sleepy disbelief. After five long months apart, imagining this exact moment, she is waking up in the arms of her lover.“Darling,” Bernie smiles, stroking back a piece of Serena’s hair that had stuck up during the night. “I think we’re getting old.”





	the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andnowsomeonenew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowsomeonenew/gifts).



Bernie’s brain is deliciously foggy, not the grey, heavy kind of fog, but the swirling mist that gently evaporates as the day warms, the sun rising high and bright. She feels as if she has been floating, as if she is being gently being pulled down to land.

The bed certainly feels like heaven. She briefly wonders how expensive this room is, finds she doesn’t care one jot.

-

Serena insisted on using the hotel room Bernie had booked. Bernie had been looking forward to a long, lonely trip back to Nairobi and had opted for a posher hotel than she normally would.

"Might as well make good of use it _,"_ Serena said, eyes sparkling.

"But it’s only a single room _,"_ Bernie bit her lip.

She underestimated her girlfriend. Serena managed to sweet-talk the hotel receptionist, a boy younger than Cameron, into upgrading them both into a plush executive suite. Serena sent Bernie to the bar to fetch a bottle of wine a share and so her wiles would remain a mystery until much later. She’d altered the truth. Said that they were NHS surgeons who’d spent long hours in theatre saving lives (true). Surgeons who had gotten engaged in the most romantic way possible, promising to wait for each other for all eternity (soon to be true).

“Does everyone just fall at your feet?” Bernie asked Serena as they took the lift up to their room.

“I wondered when Fleurgate would reappear,” Serena replied.

“What?”

Serena smirked. “You were jealous.”

“I - I -”

“You had no need to be.”

“She called you a sexy silver vixen.”

“Who is in love with a gorgeous blonde bombshell,” Serena turned to Bernie, sliding her arms around her waist. “Who for some reasons _insists_ on dressing like a teenager, wearing the tightest skinny jeans known to womankind.” Serena hands slipped down to pat Bernie’s bum. “And,” Serena lowered her voice, “who I would happily fall to my feet in front of if the situation called for it.”

Heat flushed through Bernie from head to toe. Serena stepped back, arched an eyebrow.

The elevator doors pinged open.

-

The sheets underneath Bernie are impossibly smooth. And there’s something soft tickling the skin of her neck. Something soft atop the upper half of her body, delicious in it’s weight.

Serena.

Serena’s here. With her. Sprawled diagonally atop of her, _snoring_. Not the small, sweet kind, but the deeply-in-slumber, utterly content, completely unguarded kind. And, Bernie presses her lips together, they’re more than a tad funny to listen to. _Bad girlfriend_ , she admonishes herself.

Her eyes open fully. The room is light. Her hand fumbles for her wristwatch on the bedside cabinet. “Shit,” she croaks, throat dry. It’s half seven in the morning. “Shit.”

At the moving of her pillow underneath her, Serena stirs. “Bernie?”

She turns her head to face Bernie, blinks with a sleepy disbelief. After five long months apart, imagining this exact moment, she is waking up in the arms of her lover.

“Darling,” Bernie smiles, stroking back a piece of Serena’s hair that had stuck up during the night. “I think we’re getting old.”

“Hmm?” Anything but Bernie’s name - the one word Serena's brain could never forget, the only word she's sure would remain if all else had left her memory - seems too much for her slowly waking mind to transmit to her lips.

“It’s morning,” Bernie explains. The night did not, unfortunately, prove to be young. And neither did they.

Serena realises she’s still in yesterday’s clothes, minus her coat and scarf, as is Bernie and they’ve both atop the covers. They must have fallen asleep as soon as their bodies hit the soft mattress.

“Ahh,” Serena stretches, rising up off Bernie to kneel beside her. “Looks like we needed the rest, though. And …” Her lip curls. “A chance to recharge our batteries.”

Bernie smiles devilishly up at her. “I remember running out of them pretty soon.”

“Two months in?” Serena asks, recalling her own experience.

“One,” Bernie corrects her, her lips pursing smugly and well isn’t that just a look Serena would love to kiss off her face? And she still needs to pay Bernie back for joking that she wouldn’t wait for Serena, before a smile lit up her face and she reassured her: “Yes, yes, yes!"

“Well,” Serena moves to straddle Bernie’s waist with her thighs. “I don’t know about you.” She shrugs off her shirt, pulls her singlet over her head. “But I am refreshed and _raring_ to go.”

Bernie’s eyes widen. At what point last night did Serena take off her bra? Her pulse quickens at the display of flesh, luscious and soft and warm and waiting to be touched, to be caressed and teased by her hands and mouth. Words leave her and she only manages to nod to communicate her _boundless_ approval.

Serena leans down so that her lips hover in front of Bernie’s. “But, first,” she says, before climbing off Bernie and heading for the bathroom, “we brush our teeth.”

She doesn’t, normally, before she eats in the morning, but this isn’t going to be a normal breakfast. 


End file.
